"Is that old guy reliable?" Jack still had some doubts.
"He might not be able to help you catch someone, but finding a person shouldn't be a problem. Don't underestimate a nearly 20-year veteran patrol officer who hasn't fired a shot; even the local riffraff give him some respect."
With a mix of apprehension and hope, Jack held Zoe and fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, after the briefing, Inspector Gray called Jack into his office alone and handed him a photo of Alejandro Mesia, who was using the alias Sassel Ojeda.
"Find this person. He was last seen near the County Museum of Art. Keep it low-key."
Jack feigned ignorance. "Can I seek help from other officers?"
Inspector Gray nodded. "You can, but it must remain confidential. After capturing him, do not interrogate him or log any records. Contact the IRS immediately using the number provided, and ensure his safety until they come to pick him up."
Jack put on a puzzled expression, left Gray's office, and made a copy of the photo. Then, he took a box of donuts and found the old loafer Smitty, who gave him a knowing look.
"Spill it, kid. Do you want the contact info for that new redhead at dispatch, or are you looking for tickets to a strip club?"
"Uh..." Jack was momentarily at a loss for words.
"I just need your help finding someone on the streets."
"Half of it," Smitty said with a smug expression.
"What?"
Jack was taken aback. Could Smitty be one of those hidden masters pretending to be ordinary? He remembered that Smitty did organize a secret society, but wasn't that just a joke by the scriptwriters? How did he know about the IRS contact from last night? And how did he dare to ask for such a big cut?
"You're doing a side job, right? Working with a bounty hunter? Catching a bail jumper? I don't care about the bounty amount. Either I get half, or at least 500 bucks."
Well, he was still being greedy, but not in the way Jack initially feared.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief, his face showing indignation. "That's impossible. I'm just helping a poor woman find her runaway husband. 50 bucks, no more."
Smitty's beady eyes turned a few times, reluctant. "200 bucks, no less."
"100 bucks and a homemade apple pie. If you don't want it, I'll find someone else."
"Deal! Give me the photo."
Jack's hand felt lighter as the box of donuts and the photo vanished.
The day of Angela's official transfer to the detective bureau was approaching, but today, while patrolling, she wore a constant look of distress.
Under normal circumstances, Jack would have eagerly offered his concern, hoping to gossip. But today, he was preoccupied. The bounty from this task was substantial for him, and Smitty didn't seem entirely reliable.
Pondering whether to recruit additional help or try his luck at the museum after work, Jack felt a nudge on his arm and turned to see Angela looking at him with a pained expression.
Jack was startled. This wasn't like her. Usually, Angela was more manly than most male cops, and now she looked like a wronged wife. What was going on?
Quickly reflecting on whether he'd offended her today, Jack cautiously asked, "Wesley?"
"He doesn't want to take me to meet his mother!"
Angela burst into tears, scaring Jack out of his wits. He hastily pulled the patrol car over and handed her a tissue.
"I'm a bit of a tomboy, I eat like a slob, and my room is a mess, but I've been trying to change..."
"Bang!" Jack banged his head on the steering wheel, looking like he was in agony.
He had to do it. He feared he'd burst out laughing and be pummeled by an enraged Angela.
In the three years he'd been in this world, apart from the three girls entangled with him, women like Lucy, Angela, and even Neela Harper and Bishop from the DEA, though flawed, were all strong and independent. They craved love and marriage but wouldn't lose themselves over money.
This starkly contrasted with the high-maintenance princesses Jack had encountered in his previous life. He'd never been across the ocean, so he didn't know if American women were all like this.
Rationally, it might be that these strong characters were just rare portrayals in American TV shows. Given the actual social standing of women in both countries, this seemed likely.
Jack was grateful that the women around him now, whether involved with him or not, were not overly demanding. Angela's behavior suggested only one thing.
Starting the car again, Jack turned towards the central hospital, with Angela looking puzzled.
"Where are we going?"
Jack stifled a laugh, feeling like he was turning into a friend to all women.
"To the hospital, for a check-up."
"Don't joke with me. My mood is already bad enough."
"I'm not joking. I know many women who blame themselves, but you, Angela, are not one of them. Normally, you'd be complaining about Wesley being a jerk or confronting him and then making up. You wouldn't be moping like this."
Seeing her still glaring at him, Jack had to give her a hint.
"When was the last time your friend visited you?"
"Oh my God!"
Angela frantically checked her calendar on her phone.
"I thought it was just late this time. You know, I'm never on time. Are you saying I might be pregnant?"
Jack quickly denied it.
"I didn't say that. I don't know. I have no idea about your condition. You should ask Wesley. Sometimes, protection fails. I just made a simple deduction."
Angela suddenly looked shy and a bit awkward.
"Actually, you just need to stop at a pharmacy and get a pregnancy test. No need for all this trouble."
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